some grandpa connor because 1) I needed to escape nanowrimo for a while and 2) he deserves to be surrounded by family and love after everything they put him through in ac3

Later Years

The yard behind the Davenport manor – once a quiet place where its residents could rest and regroup in the worst of times – had grown rather noisy over the past few years.

"Stop it, you're pulling my hair!"

"Then get off me!"

The three children playing there now were rolling across one of the meticulously cared for flower gardens. The youngest, a girl of about three, watched her brother and cousin scuffle through a circle of daisies, ripping and tearing at one another as they went.

She picked at one of the trampled blooms and twisted it between her fingers. The boys were always so rowdy, and Mother was always reminding her to keep her dresses clean. She wasn't supposed to play in the dirt and the muck (and neither were they, but no one really tried to stop them anymore).

The two were all but climbing up one of the ancient trees when the manor's back door creaked open and shut. She looked back, half expecting to see her mother—

But it wasn't her mother. It was even better.

The girl pushed herself off the ground and broke into a run when the newcomer – her grandfather, smiling down on her – came to stand on the sunlit porch. He picked her up and held her comfortably in one arm.

"What are you doing by yourself, Eliza?" he asked.

"The boys are mean," she muttered, her lip jutted in a pout. "They ruined your flowers!"

He only chuckled. "Flowers can be replanted."

Eliza shrugged and leaned against her grandfather's shoulder. He was a great, broad man despite his age and an old injury that made it difficult for him to move around; he made her feel light as a cloud and safe as can be when he picked her up and held her in his arms.

Some of the other children were afraid of her grandfather. He was tall, and he was quiet, and his face was scarred by "a fight from a very long time ago", as he once told her. But she never understood how anyone could fear a man so gentle and kind. He hadn't even yelled the time she accidentally ran into a table and broke what appeared to be a priceless vase in the living room.

In fact, the only time she had ever seen him angry was when a group of strange men came to the front door. He growled something at them and sent Eliza and her brother to the secret basement. They spent the afternoon playing there until he said it was okay to come back, but they had to promise that they would never tell anyone about that room.

Eliza thought it was all a great game. And she loved sharing secrets with her grandfather.

He stood with her now, watching her brother and cousin romp around the yard. He didn't seem the least bit upset that her brother had twigs sticking out of his hair, or that their cousin had mud stains on the knees of his trousers. Not like their mother and father would be later.

"Can we play a game?" she asked her grandfather.

But he shook his head. His expression was oddly sad.

"Maybe later, my dear," he said. "I need to rest for a while."

She frowned. It was understandable, though; another group of men and women had come to visit he grandfather that day, and he'd sent them out to play in the yard. That had been hours ago. Did they only just leave?

"A story?" she begged. "About the boat? The…A…"

"Aquila?" he provided, and she nodded so hard that her curls bounced.

His chuckle was quiet and soft. "Of course. Where did we leave off?"

"The captain was chasing the bad man to the tropical islands."

"Ah, I remember now," he said with a nod. "It was a hot afternoon when the captain finally saw the Welcome on the horizon…"